


Rain

by Door_Matt



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Autistic Peter Parker, Canon Compliant, Depression, Eating Disorders, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kinda, Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Sexual Assault, Trans Natasha Romanov, Trans Peter Parker, honestly allll of this is ooc, idk what im doing with my life, idk what to tag this, oh how could i forget, poorly written bc i cant write, projecting my childhood trauma onto fictional characters instead of going to a therapist, send me nice shit and i'll love you forever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-05-09 07:09:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14711454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Door_Matt/pseuds/Door_Matt
Summary: After Uncle Bens death, Aunt May's drinking spirals out of control and Peter is left to pick up the pieces.[A.k.a Aunt May is a drunk, Peter is trans, and Tony knows N O T H I N G  because the author is an asshat ;)]





	1. Under the Weather

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay i know alllll of this is really OOC and the writing is bad, but ive wanted a fic like this for ages and you know what they say about doing shit yourself or whatever.  
> also this entire fic is gonna be really triggery  
> For this chapter specifically if you get triggered by abuse or panic attacks or anything, id avoid this.  
> Some later chapters are gonna have like self harm n shit but ill warn before those.

On most days, Peter wouldn't mind the rain. But, today was absolutely _not_ one of those days.  
He hadn't gotten a new raincoat since the whole "Spidey" thing, so his old one was way too small. It didn't help that it was also freezing cold and windy, so the cool rain hit his face like icy bullets. The overcast sky made him feel even more depresses than usual, and his hair was sticking to his face, uncomfortably itchy at the nape of his neck. Peter needed a haircut too, another thing on his ever-growing To Do list.

At the start, it wasn't that hard. Yes, they both did struggle with Uncle Ben's death, but Aunt May still had her job, and her drinking wasn't that bad. Slowly though, it all got worse. She had always been a social drinker, a glass of wine before bed and all that, but after Ben died, she started drinking more and more. She started staying out later after work and drinking in the morning, and next thing Peter knew she was rarely home, and when she was, she was drunk. May just stopped caring. And as much as Peter wanted to help, he couldn't. He was years away from turning eighteen, so he had no way of getting may the help that she needed. So then he tried to take all the alcohol out of the house, but she found other ways to get it. At fifteen, all he could do was just try and keep them both afloat. He got three jobs, showered at school, brought bottles to fill with water from the water fountain and stole food from the cafeteria.  
Peter was lucky that the day Mr. Stark came was one of her good days, because the bad days were bad, and if Mr. Stark saw that? Peter could be put in the system or something, which would be much worse than dealing with May.  
So he just dealt with it.

  
"PETER!" Ned yelled at him from across the street, dodging cars and splashing in puddles as he ran over to him, promptly handing Peter his umbrella. "Dude you're soaking wet, where is your umbrella? you could get sick or something"

Peter laughed "Ned, I'm fine, I don't get sick, and It wasn't raining when I left the house." That and Peter didn't have his old umbrella anymore, May broke it a few weeks ago during one of her bad days and decided to hit Peter with it till it snapped in half, before passing out. Peter hadn't thought he would need a new one so soon.

"MJ's still gonna get mad at you though, you know how 'mother hen' she gets when you're sick." Ned turned to face him as they waited to cross the busy road outside the school, starting to take something out of his bag before freezing completely. "Peter what happened to your eye?! MJ'll freak when she sees that... How'd you get it? Is there another vulture guy? did Tony take you on another mission?!" Ned's eyes lit up as he talked. Ned loved the spider-man thing, much more than Peter.

"Ned drop it." Peter snapped. Ned's shoulders hunched over. "Sorry, I didn't mean... I had a late night and I'm pissy"

Truth was, Peter hadn't even had a chance to go out on patrol last night. He had just gotten back from work, and May had just gotten back from the pub. Of course, she came home early and decided to beat the living shit out of Peter. Fun Times at the Parker residence.

"So, did you finish that Chem homework?"

 

-

 

Ned was right about MJ freaking out, he and Ned had barely gotten into school before she caught a glimpse of his greenish-purple eye she pulled him into the nearest empty room. and started Mother Hen-ing.

The janitor's room was really small, and even with just the two of them in there, Peter felt claustrophobic. There were mops on the floor, probably from other teenagers coming in here to do.. other stuff, and the ceiling was falling apart.

"What the fuck happened to your eye Parker?" Her words were harsh but her tone was soft, Peter knew she cared lots for him, which made lying (Something Peter already struggled to do) that much harder.

"I just fell over last night when I was getting a glass of water, you know how clumsy I am" Jesus did he sound obvious. Of all the lies to tell he used that one? Sure he couldn't use the Spiderman excuse like he did with Ned, but still... MJ would never believe him.

"Don't bullshit me Peter" MJ took a step towards him, brushing a stray curl behind his ear. "Was it Flash? I'll beat his ass, or kick him off decathlon-"

"MJ I'm fine. It doesn't even hurt." MJ took a deep breath in. It was still really obvious he was lying, but he couldn't feel bad about that. It 's for the best. "I gotta go to Spanish. See you at lunch." Peter slung his backpack over his shoulder and got out of there as fast as he could.

The longer he spent with MJ, the more likely he was to say something that would hint at Peter's home life. Even though he kind of wanted to tell her, dealing with may be difficult at best and life-threatening at worst, and he couldn't tell MJ that because he doesn't know what she would do. something dramatic. Peter Parker knew how to take a beating, that was a given, but it was the words that hurt the most. The words that swarmed like wasps around his head, striking at the slightest movement.  
Accelerated healing doesn't help when the worst of the abuse is emotional.  
So as much as he wanted to tell MJ, as much as he wanted to break down and tell her everything, Peter instead decided the better idea was to fill his every waking hour with school, work, patrol, and homework, so he didn't have to think about anything.  
Usually.  
Getting shoved around on his solitary walk to Spanish class, Peter felt anxious. He finished his all homework,(They had a substitute teacher last class, and he must have given them the grade nine work because it was all just basic conjugation. it took Peter literally two minutes) ad he was early to class as usual, so there was no real reason for him to feel so anxious. But of course, he did anyway because his very own brain hated him, and was out to get him on a daily basis.  
And then his brain went to fuck and he froze two feet away from the Spanish class, completely forgetting how to breathe.  
Peter turned on his heel and ran to the bathroom, quickly locking himself in the stall, right as the first warning bell rang.  
he had fifteen minutes to pull himself out of this panic attack before he was late to class.  
His chest felt like it was caving in and, although there was no one else in the bathroom, Peter felt claustrophobic. May's insults from the night before crept back into his head.  
_I wish you died instead of Ben._  
His chest constricted even more like someone had wrapped a belt around his chest and kept pulling it tighter and tighter. His spidey sense was screaming at him like it always did during a panic attack.  
His heart was running a marathon as he closed his eyes and tried to focus on his breathing. He felt lots better when the bathroom light wasn't scorching his retinas. Peter tried that thing that MJ taught him, focus on one thing ("Mindfulness"). Peter thought it sounded stupid but right now, he was pretty desperate. The disgusting floor that he collapsed on was not something he wanted to be thinking about, so he tried to center himself on the metronomic beat of the broken tap.  
_drip_  
breathe in  
_drip_  
breathe out.  
As Peter's breathing became less irregular and more steady, he peeled himself off the sticky floor and held his hand out in front of his face, staring at it until it stopped shaking and dropped back to his side.

  
Peter splashed water on his face before throwing his bag over his shoulder once more and heading back to class, with five minutes to spare.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> K thanks for reading. if yu left me nice shit that would be great but you dont have to because,,, i never do bc i hate talking.  
> also once again i apologize fr how shite the writing is. Im particularly bad at first chapters and i wrote this instead of sleeping.. so idk.


	2. Down and Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW:  
> Mention of slurs (Fag etc)  
> Descriptions of abuse (Not really graphic but,, its there and i got triggered writing it)  
> Brief mention of blood

"May?" Peter's voice quivered as he opened the door. It was eight twenty, pretty unlikely for her to be in this early, but he still had to be careful. He didn't want a repeat of yesterday.  
Last night May came home much earlier than she usually did, while Peter was still cleaning up before patrol. The door hadn't even slammed before Peters Spider-sense went crazy. He wanted to run out of the house, or hide, but he didn't have enough time. May locked on to him like a missile, quickly throwing a glass bottle at his head (Which he dodged). As with most attacks, he knew what was coming beforehand, he could see her throws before they hit, but he couldn't do anything. Even though it was painful, she was still May. He couldn't hurt her.  
So he just took it all, the screaming and the kicking (Peter had eventually doubled over, so May resorted to kicking him, very painfully, in the ribs). Her words stuck to him like syrup, slowly trickling into his brain and making his lungs heavy.  
 _Useless_  
 _Tranny_  
 _Fag_  
She screamed at him about how he was worthless, nothing, how it was his fault Ben died.  
He should have done something, anything, and this was the price he paid.  
Like always, the pain got to be too much. Peter zoned out and when he tuned back in she was gone.

When Peter left early that morning for his 6:00 shift, May was still passed out on the couch.

She had clearly gone back out since then, leaving beer bottles in her wake.  
Peter started to clean up before patrol. Smashed brown bottles littered the floor, he had to be careful not to cut his fingers as the shoveled the glass into the old plastic dustpan.  
The shattered glass increased right in front of Peter's room. There were shards of glass stuck to his locked door, and it was missing large chunks of wood. May probably threw some bottles at his door this morning.  
He cleaned quickly, not wanting to miss out on patrol time.   
Quickly throwing on his suit, he grabbed a piece of toast before locking is bedroom from the inside and slinking out the bedroom window.  
Peter knew he should be getting more to eat, especially before patrol, but he's the only source of income and money is tight. Rent keeps getting hiked up, and he kept having to call in sick for his weekend job to go to Mr. Stark's.  
Besides, his body was used to not getting enough to eat.

  
-

 

"You have an incoming call from Tony Stark, would you like to accept?" Karen interrupted as he fought some random mugger from an old lady's purse.

"Uhhh- Sure!" Mr. Starks face lit up the side of his view. Right as the mugger flashed a knife

"Hey, web-head. Do you want to come up to HQ this weekend? I want to make a few adjustments to the suit, and you could catch a break from school."

"Sorry Mr. Stark, I want to, but I can't come. I have work this weekend" Well done Peter, really great excuse. Really good job.

"Work? Are you cheating on me with Osborn?" Mr. Stark joked.

"NO! it's just... May needs help paying the rent, so I got a weekend job. And I cant go because I'm pretty sure they'll fire me if I call in sick again." The words tumbled out of his mouth as he tried to avoid being stabbed.

"No problem, send your hours and wages over to Happy and I'll match that. You should have just told me, I mean yeah you're going to be doing some grunt work now buts its got to be better than- where do you work now?"

"Wendy's..."

"Jesus..I'll let you get back to whoever you're fighting. Get home safe, Happy will text you the itinerary later" Tony's face left the screen with a buzz, and then it was just him and the mugger.

The man smiled, orange teeth glowing under the street light, before running at Peter, knife in hand. Thinking quickly, Peter webbed the knife, pulling it into his hand, before jumping onto the alley wall. He then shot a web at the man, sticking him to the opposing wall.   
Not too shabby of a job.  
He grabbed the woman's purse off the road, where it sat drenched in a puddle.   
The lady thanked him lots. She'd already called the police, but Peter saved her lots of time (And money).

Peter was swinging home when he felt a stabbing pain in his chest. At first, he thought it was his binder, or that his ribs still hurt from last night, but the pain kept getting worse and worse, to the point where he had to take a break on the nearest roof.  
As soon as he touched the rooftop, his legs gave way underneath him and he collapsed. When he pulled his hand away from his ribs, it was covered in blood.  
"shit" Peter murmured under his breath. "Karen, What happened"  
"You appear to have a tear to your intercostal muscle, you should not be straining your upper body. Would you like me to call Tony Stark?"

"No! No- I'm fine..." Peter winced. "I'll just get home, it'll be gone by tomorrow"

Webbing home was incredibly painful, normally a tear like this would take three to six weeks to heal, and Peter was wearing his binder too.   
Still, Peter winced his way back to his and May's apartment, almost passing out from exhaustion as he climbed through the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so short! it's literally half of what i wanted it to be but school work and stress caused me to get reallyy bad autistic burn out (To the point where i was throwing up.) Good news is i have a therapy appt. on Monday, but i probably wont update until then because stressssssssss  
> sorry!


	3. Fit as a fiddle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very heavy. Less focus on abuse but much more on sexual assault. This was really difficult for me to write so be careful?

Peter was having, quite possibly, the shittiest day of his entire month.

He couldn't wear his binder, because his ribs were fucked to hell and because Flash is an asshole, after noticing Peter wasn’t wearing a binder, he decided to wolf whistle at Peter from across the hall and call him names.

The catcalling was from Flash, mixed with the pain from his ribs and the stress of going to Mr Stark's on the weekend meant that by the time lunch rolled around, Peter was an emotional wreck. He wanted to cry so bad, but he couldn't because he knew Flash would probably tease him even more for it. So he instead decided to skip his extracurricular and have his lunch in the library.

After texting Ned to let him know he wouldn't be coming to Robotics club (he could catch up on the missed programming tonight anyways), he hid in the most private part of the school library, the back corner, letting his thoughts race for a couple minutes.

Unfortunately, the most secluded part of the library was the biography section. So not only was he having a breakdown, he was having a breakdown in front of Albert Einstein, Captain America, and Mr Stark.

"Peter?" He lifted his head off of his knees and looked up, MJ was staring down at him.Was he really that predictable?

She sat herself next to him, offering him one of the blankets she kept in her locker. "Ned told me you skipped robotics. What's up?"

"Nothings, it's just Flash and stuff. I had to take a break from binding today because my asthma is acting up and flash noticed."

She nodded, placing hand on his knee without warning him. So Peter flinched, noticeably.

His breathing hitches, and MJ immediately takes her hand off his leg. He's never done this before.

Realistically he knows he's safe, but maybe it's Flash catcalling him earlier that sends him into a panic. He feels like he did back then, back when he was a kid.

"Peter?"

Hands are all over him. _His_ breath is warm and sticky on his neck. Peters in so much pain. He can't move. He can't breathe. _His_ hands are on peters chest now, moving up and down.

Peter needed to talk. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t a kid. He forced his eyes open, staring right at Mr Stark.

"MJ I need to tell you something” he choked out. “Just, not here."

"Of course"

 

-

 

"So what did you want to tell me?" MJ asked from across the living room. She looks concerned, but she usually does nowadays, ever since Peter started coming to school with bruises.

What was he going to say? MJ had kept him pretty busy all the way to hers, complaining about her little brother, Isi, that he had no time to focus on what he was going to say. He hasn’t thought this out well enough in the library, the words just spilled out of his mouth. He did feel more comfortable now than before, sitting cross-legged on her couch with a bowl of tomato soup, but he couldn't possibly tell MJ anything that was going on in his life right now. Not about May or Spiderman or anything. He's a horrible person, and a horrible friend.

"You can trust me. I promise." She sits herself down across from him at the end of the sofa.

Maybe he could get something off his chest. A weight he's been carrying for years.

"I haven't told anyone this. Ever. I just-" Peter took a deep breath. It had started to rain again, the rain drops hit MJ's window with a clinking sound, trickling down the window pane, blurring the cars that drove by.

"When I was eight, May, Ben and I had to move out of our old place. I don't really remember why, but we moved to the apartment where we are now. When we were moving in, a neighbor offered to help us out with our boxes. His name was- is skip. He was twenty when we first moved in, and he got along great with May and Ben. Sometimes, if May and Ben went out on a date, or May needed to go to the shops while Ben was at work, they would have skip come over. He would always bring over national geographic magazines, and we would sit and watch cartoons. Back then only Ned was my friend, so May and Ben thought it was great that I had someone I was getting along with, even if he was twice my age." Peter wondered if MJ knew where he was going with this, hopefully she will figure out soon, he's already on the verge of another breakdown. He doesn't know how longer he can continue.

"I guess May and Ben didn't really think anything of it. He was nice to them, and he was nice to me. I thought I could tell him anything, so when I started questioning my gender, I told him-" He took a breath. Phantom hands started to smother him, marking stolen territory. He could feel MJ start to figure it out, start to get worried and upset. "He told me he would make me feel like a woman again. He didn't give me a choice." His voice cracked as he started to cry, pulling his legs into his chest.

"Holy shit Peter." Mj shuffled in her spot, he'd fucked up. He shouldn't have told her.

"I'm sorry I shouldn't have told you it was my fault-" He rushed, before MJ cut him off.

"Peter this wasn't your fault, at all. Don't think that. What Skip did to you was wrong, really wrong, and not your fault." His breathing started to settle again. "Do you want to talk to Ana? She could file a report for you if you wanted." Ana was MJ's step mom, a detective with the NYPD, and a very nice woman. But Peter wasn't sure if he could tell anyone. How could he even prove it? And he didn't want to go to court, they would blame him.

"I don't know MJ. Maybe."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry I’ve been gone for like two months. I was hospitalised again. I’m okay now. School starts in just about a month so I’ll finally have something to look forward too. This chapter is really messy I know but I started writing as soon as I could and I wanted to get it out soon.   
> Sorry it’s such a mess


	4. Like Father, Like Son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a while yeet  
> TW:  
> Anxiety  
> Dysphoria   
> General Teenage Angst  
> Mentions Of Nudity That Could Trigger Dysphoria  
> Panic Attacks  
> PTSD Stuff  
> References To Peters Traumatic Childhood (not direct but talking about childhood sexual assault) 
> 
> Also the first part of the chapter is recycled from the old chapter four that was deleted but there is also new content if you read the old chapter 4

Peter ended up staying at MJ's for dinner. Which was nice, seeing as he actually got to eat a proper meal for the first time in ages. But it was almost as if he had forgotten how to function in a normal family setting. Sudden noises put him on the edge, and he couldn't look MJ's mom in the eye the entire meal. Questions usually lead to short answers and even though he knew he should be nicer to Ana and Ms Jones, they made him dinner after all, he couldn't help feeling like something bad was going to happen. He had to keep reminding himself that it was just anxiety, nothing bad would happen. But it was hard.  
When Peter was helping MJ put away the dishes, MJ's mom came over.  
"Michelle, can you give Peter and I a minute?" She asked, and MJ put down the pot she was scrubbing away at.  
"Of course, I'll be in my room." She grabbed her phone from the dinner table, leaving Peter and her mom alone.   
"I just wanted to check up on you Peter,  Michelle hasn't brought you over in forever. How's May?" Peter resisted the urge to touch his eye. The makeup job was shoddy and he knew it. Drugstore concealer was cheap but it had barely any coverage.   
"She's fine. It's been difficult for her.. since Ben. But she's dealing with it, we're dealing with it." If alcoholism could be considered dealing with it. Peter could only hope she didn't know May lost her job, or that Peter was working three  
"And how's school?" She was asking too many questions. Peter knew he shouldn't have stayed for dinner. Ms Jones was a social worker. Did he really expect her to not notice his black eye? Or how weird he was acting?  
"Yeah it's good." Peter lies through his teeth. He almost lost his scholarship at the start of the year, and if he fucked up at all now, they could definitely take it away. There's no way he could afford to go to midtown on his own, tuition was so expensive.  
"That's good. I just wanted to check up on you. Sometimes after a death in the family, the parent can struggle to cope. You have my number, right?" Peter nodded. "Well you can text me if you need anything." She put her hand on his shoulder, and Peter tried his best not to flinch.  
"Thanks Ms Jones."   
"Please Peter, call me Madeline. You've known me long enough."

-

MJ was really nice letting him stay for dinner, but that just made going home even harder. He was exhausted, emotionally and physically, but he still put on his suit and swung through the rainy streets of Queens, procrastinating going back to Aunt May. Maybe she would be fine, maybe she would already be passed out on the floor beside the sofa.   
Or maybe she was awake, waiting for him to come home, waiting to scream and yell and hit him.   
Had the neighbours noticed yet? Probably not. Apart from Skip, who lived 3 Doors down, the rest of the people on his floor were drug addicts, or had families of their own to care about. The yelling was no bother.   
Still, he couldn't put off going back to the apartment forever. He needed sleep, and a towel. And he needed to finish his robotics work, if he wanted to keep his scholarship. Besides, tonight was pretty quiet for queens. They could go without Spiderman for one night.  
By the time he got in, May had passed out right outside his room. Peter carefully snuck in through his window, making as little noise as possible, and sat down at his desk. Hopefully staying up all night will help him with all his work that was due tomorrow, he only wished he could make coffee without waking up May.

-

Peter loved the ride up to Tony's, it helped him de-stress after a weeks worth of school. Once you got out of the bustle of the city it was peaceful, almost idyllic. Winding his way upstate, he couldn't wait to spend the weekend at Tony's, away from everything for a weekend. The trips always helped him clear his head. Eventually, the trees started to clear and he saw HQ on the horizon. Last time he was here Tony let (helped) him program the repulsers on the new mark of Iron Man suit, but Peter assumed that since he's getting paid to be here now, he would just be doing grunt work. But even then, grunt work was better than being at May's.

_Stop thinking about May._

"You okay kid?" Peter looked up from his cracked phone to Happy, who was glancing at him through the rear view.

"Yeah I'm good. Just daydreaming"

"Okay." Happy looked back to the road, and Peter looked back at instagram. 3 new texts. Two from Ned, and one from MJ. ‘you good? didnt see you today?', which Peter decided to ignore. No time for anxiety on the weekends.

-

Once they got there, Tony greeted him with a smile and a hug, before getting straight into work”I have so many ideas for mods for the suit I want to run past you. I was thinking maybe some web repulser, or maybe some extra- Peter?" Peter had stopped in his tracks, and Tony stared at him expectantly.

"You're not gonna make me do grunt work?" Tony raised an eyebrow.

"Kid, you're too smart to do grunt work. Now come, we're going to lab 12 today"

Stark industries is a big company, but there aren't actually that many employed at HQ - because Secret Super Hero Stuff and all that. In all there's 100 (non-super) employees. forty work in the tech labs, thirteen work chemistry, ten in biology (five of which specifically in genetics), seven computers and coding. There's also ten on site doctors, five avengers approved therapists, eleven security personnel, three maintenance workers, and a partridge in a pear tree.

Otherwise known as Rita. "Hi Rita!"

"Good afternoon Peter. I have something here for you" She pulled a blue card out of one of the desk drawers, and handed it to him. The photo on the ID was ugly, yes, but he was more focused on the big red letters at the bottom.

"All access?" He looked up to Rita.

"Courtesy of Stark himself"

"Thanks Rita! Thanks Mr Stark" He gave Tony a hug.

"No problem kid, now let's get going"

Obviously Peter already had an all access card, but that wasn't really him, it was Spiderman. And this one also had access to his room, which Spider-Man’s didn’t have. 

-

Working with Mr Stark was really hard sometimes, he’s been doing this whole mechanic thing for longer than Peter’s been alive, but today was even worse. After talking everything out with MJ, it was all still fresh and painful in his mind, and it seemed like every little thing was a trigger for him. Peter was struggling to balance maintaining functional conversation with Tony, and not having an anxiety attack.

“So I’m thinking if we find a way weave in some impact-resistant polymers with some a Kevlar fibre blend it would minimize injuries from knives and also be bullet proof, But it won’t impact your agility. What do you think?” Tony asked Peter, while sticking a hand through the slashed hole in his suit.

“Wouldn’t the Kevlar decrease the water resistance and cause an issue with conductivity of the electronics?” 

“Well, finding a way to make it, or the electronics, waterproof wouldn’t be that hard, it would just maybe make the suit heavier.”

That was when it happened, the ever shuffling music that tony played in the background changed to one of the songs that Skip used to listen to. Immediately Peters already uncomfortable brain shut down completely, his spider sense freaking the fuck out. He couldn’t breathe, it felt like his binder was wrapping around his chest like a boa constrictor, trying to suffocate him.

“Mr Stark, can you- can you change the song please” Peter felt like he was going to pass out, or throw up. All the blood had left his body, and he was so panicked he felt woozy. He had an iron grip on Tony’s work table, denting it slightly.

“Friday!” Tony didn’t need to say anything, the music stopped, but Peter didn’t feel any better. “Are you okay Pete?” 

God Peter hated this. He didn’t want Tony to see him as weak. That’s why he never told Mr Stark he was trans. Having a panic attack right in front of Tony didn’t help keep the “strong” image.

“Peter? Talk to me kid, what’s going on?” Tony dimmed the lights, probably thinking Peter was having some sort of sensory overload. “Peter you need to breathe. C’mon, in and out, like this.”

The sticky, hot sweat rolling off Skip’s forehead onto Peter’s chest.

The moaning, grunting.

That song playing in the background.

His hands, wrapped tight around Peter’s forearms, holding him down. 

The pain.

“Peter, you’re safe, you’re with me in lab 12 at HQ.” Tony kept repeating himself to Peter. “You’re safe” 

Tony kept repeating himself for five minutes before Peter was somewhat grounded.

 “I- I need to sit down” Peter still felt like he was about to collapse, and sat down on the nearest couch, Tony kneeling next to him, but not touching him. 

“Here, drink some water” He gripped tightly onto the cup, taking a small sip of water. Peters stomach churned.

They sat like that for a while, until Peter was fully grounded. He knew Tony would ask questions, just like MJ, and he wasn’t ready for that

“Can I go to my room please?”

-

Peter slept fitfully,  waking up every few hours from nightmares. Nightmares about May, about skip, about that night at the warehouse. Nightmares about Tony finding out he was trans, about Tony dying, or being hurt. 

When he woke up for good, it was 5am. He’d had probably 3 hours sleep total, maybe four, and finally given up on going back to sleep. 

So, he stripped out of his sweaty pyjamas, pulled off his sticky binder (which he made the mistake of sleeping in), and stepped in the shower.

Once again, Peter felt numb to the world. As he showered himself, he felt dirty. He felt like no matter how hard he scrubbed at his already red raw skin, he would never wash off his past. And as he stepped out of the shower, and went to grab a towel, he found himself looking in the mirror. He saw the parts of his body that he despised. The parts of him that he was never supposed to have in the first place. The parts of him that were defiled. He stared at the disgusting objects south of his collarbones, and put his binder back on. 

Peters ribs ached.

He waited 30 minutes before leaving his room, silently plodding down to the communal kitchen to make some coffee (hoping that Mr Stark wouldn’t be there). The clock on the microwave read 6:03am, and if peter was lucky no-one would be up for a while.

But Peter was never lucky.

At 6:15, Tony came down to the kitchen and Peter wanted to run right out of the room. Peter hadn’t talked to Tony about his panic attack last night before he went to his room and he definitely didn’t want to talk about it now. So when Tony entered the room, Peter was prepared for an interrogation, for Tony to take his suit away. How could he be trusted to be a superhero like Spider-Man if a song gives him a panic attack? Superheroes aren’t weak, they don’t have anxiety. Peter could never be like them. 

“Do you want anything other than coffee for breakfast? I make a mean pancake.” Peter was not prepared for this.

“No thank you Mr Stark, I’m not hungry” 

“Okay”

Tony made him a pancake anyways, and Peter picked at it while Tony sat across from him and ate his. 

“So, do you want to talk about what happened last night?”  Oh god here it comes. “You don’t have to.”

“I’m okay Mr Stark, thank you though.” 

“That’s okay, if you want to talk about it you can always talk to me, you know that right? There’s nothing wrong with talking about it. I’m sure you know there’s therapists here that some of us see sometimes, right?” Peter nodded. “Not everyone’s perfect Peter. You don’t have to be.”

“Thank you Mr Stark” Peter didn’t believe it. He knew that if Tony saw how weak he was, how incapable he was, he would definitely take the suit away. Peter couldn’t risk that. He needed Spider-Man. 

He was nothing without the suit.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyy.  
> Sorry for not updating in like 6 months.  
> I’ve been in and out of IP (the hospital) bc of my mental health but other than the lingering PTSD from my Childhood Trauma that i Cannot Talk To My Therapist About, and the depression that is Too Expensive To Medicate. I’m pretty good. This fic is still on hiatus (meaning the next time y’all will see me could be a week or 6 months from now) but that’s how it be sometimes.  
> Also if the dialogue is awkward in this it’s because I like,, don’t talk to people?? Also peter and tony are like Hella Smart and I’m not? (Depending on what comic book iterations ur talking abt they both have IQ’s of >200 and mine is just 144)  
> And finally, I’m sixteen!!!   
> I legitimately didn’t think I’d make it to sixteen without successfully killing myself but I did it and I’m proud of myself. I’ve been suffering with mental health issues since I was 11 and even me being happy that I’m Not Dead is a big difference from then. I’m also a whole ass month clean from self harming and I haven’t been hospitalized in over a month!   
> So yeah, life is Gucci


	5. It's Not All That It's Cracked Up To Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BIG FUCKING TRIGGER WARNING  
> there is a whole ass suicide scene in this  
> please be safe and DONT READ THIS if that's going to trigger you

  
Life is exhausting. Peter knew that.  
  
Peter worked 60 hour weeks and he could barely afford to get anything after rent and utilities.  
  
Peter worked 60 hour weeks, then went out on patrol every night till 1 am to make sure Queens was safe because nobody's ever taking the time to watch as he does.  
  
Peter worked 60 hour weeks, went out on patrol every night till 1 am, then stayed up till 3 am to do homework and study for tests to make sure his scholarship wasn't revoked because he couldn't pay for school otherwise.  
  
Peter worked 60 hour weeks, went out on patrol every night till 1 am, stayed up till 3 am to do homework and study for tests, then woke up at 5 am to get to school on time so that he could do a couple hours work before school.  
  
Peter worked 60 hour weeks, went out on patrol every night till 1 am, stayed up till 3 am to do homework and study for tests, woke up at 5 am to get to school on time, and he wanted to die.  
  
Peter wanted to kill himself.  
  
It didn't ever seem like a big deal to him, just a looming inevitability. If he wasn't killed being spiderman, he would probably kill himself.  
  
That's how it's always been, ever since he was a kid.  
  
Even before the whole Spider-Man thing, it was just always there. Peter would kill himself. Or maybe May, or maybe some bad guy on patrol, or maybe he'd get hit by a car.  
  
Most likely he'd kill himself  
  
When Peter was 11, he was raped for the first time.  
  
When Peter was 11 and a half. Peter slit his wrists.  
  
He didn't die, because he was 11 and a half and he was weak. But it hurt. And he liked the pain. And he thought that maybe if Skip could see his pain, that he wouldn't hurt him anymore.  
  
That didn't happen.  
  
But he did continue to cut himself.  
  
Over time, the cuts got deeper and deeper. What used to be a quick slash was now a forceful cut, followed by meticulous cutting of that same area. The deeper it was, the more the pain.  
  
And the pain was the goal.  
  
As he got older, he realized that cutting his arm (aka, one of the most noticeable parts of the body) wasn't the smartest, and he started cutting his legs instead.  
  
And then he started cutting both.  
  
It became addictive, almost a ritual. Every night, every other night, he would get down his blades from a box on the top of his shelf. And then he would cut. And cut. And cut. Until his fingertips were cold and grey from blood loss.  
  
Once he became Spiderman, it was different. He was protecting people now, he couldn't be physically weak. And besides, getting beat up was pain too.  
  
Sometimes, if there weren't any citizens of Queens at risk, he would let bad guys have a real go at him. Let them beat him up so much he couldn't move for a couple minutes, couple fractures, broken bones. That worked too, For a while, but it wasn't sustainable.  
  
He started flinging himself from buildings, playing a game of chicken with the ground, waiting longer to deploy his webs each time. letting his feet scrape the ground. But that didn't hurt him, just spiked his adrenaline.  
  
Eventually, Peter started cutting again. He couldn't remember exactly when. Probably after 3 months. He missed it. He craved it. He would sit in class just longing to cut his wrists. To draw blood. To hit some sort of nerve and gasp in pain, but to keep going.  
  
He wanted to get his hands sticky with his own blood for a change.  
  
All of this lead to today, his sixteenth birthday.  
  
Today, he wanted to kill himself.  
  
But he couldn't.  
  
Because he and Ned had a group presentation on Thursday.  
  
So after that.  
  
The planning was the best part. How would he do it? Overdose, Slitting the wrists?  
  
He didn't like guns or nooses, so it had to be one of the two.  
  
Or both.  
  
Probably Both.  
  
Or maybe he could jump off a bridge.  
  
The first time was when he was 11 and a half, cutting.  
  
Then when he was 12, overdose.  
  
When he was 13, overdose again  
  
When he was 14, cutting.  
  
When he was 15, cutting.  
  
When he was 15 and a half, overdose.  
  
And today. His 16th birthday.  
  
He wanted to.  
  
But he couldn't.  
  
He had work.  
  
  
-  
  
  
Other than the realization that he would probably kill himself soon, Peter's birthday was still shit.  
  
Peter had worked before school, so he had to leave extra early (4 am). He got to school late, so that went on his school record (One step closer to being expelled). When he got to school, MJ had baked him a cupcake (which he threw up into the nearest bathroom), and Ned wanted to come over to build lego ("Sorry Ned, I've got work. Yes, again"). And to top it off, a text from Tony.  
  
"Hey kiddo, booked an appointment for you with a therapist here. You don't have to go if you don't want to." God he probably thought he was so weak. Disgusting weak tranny. That's what he was.  
  
But still, he persevered. He had made it through that day, which was a testament to some sort of higher power.  
  
Work was exhausting, serving fries at a McDonalds isn't exactly mentally challenging. He'd fucked up some soccer-moms order and was given the "Can I speak to the manager" line. It was a dumb mistake, Peter's fault, but it almost got him fired. He also needed some food. Maybe barfing up MJ's cupcake wasn't the best idea. He felt lightheaded and woozy as he got lectured by his boss.  
  
After work, Peter stayed out as late as possible doing patrols. He didn't want to get verbally or physically berated by May, especially on his birthday. But he had to go home sooner or later and staying out till 2 am isn't the best idea if you woke up at 4 am.  
  
So he went home, to May's. To hell.  
  
When he got home, Aunt May gave him some painful birthday bumps, using a beer bottle.  
  
That was the breaking point.  
  
Peter locked himself inside his room, May pounding at the door, and pulled the blades and pills from the special box in his room.  
  
Ned would have to do the project on his own.  
  
  
-  
  
  
Tony had been working late that night, Pepper has been using FRIDAY to threaten him, tell him to come to bed, but he couldn't. His anxiety was keeping him up. Maybe it was just that, anxiety, but this deep feeling of dread was almost always a precursor to something terrible. Instead of sleeping, he stayed in his workshop, working on a new Mark of suit.  
That was when a screen above him started flashing. Something was wrong.  
An alert had been sent out by the AI in Peter's suit. Tony knew Peter had jailbroken the AI months ago to take out any form of Baby Monitor Protocol, so this had to be really serious. Serious enough for Karen to rewrite her own code.  
  
"FRIDAY, what's going on?"  
  
"Distress signals are being sent out by Peter's tracker band, extreme blood loss."  
  
"Fuck! fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck." He put on the nano-suit. "Ping me his coordinates."  
  
"The distress call seems to be coming from his own home sir."  
  
"What?" that didn't make sense unless there was an attack at Peter's home. Shit. "FRIDAY patch me into what Karen is hearing"  
  
Tony was already on his way when FRIDAY patched him in. He could hear pounding on the door and whimpering. A woman drunkenly yelling slurs. And a different person, closer, gasping for air, and mumbling "oh shit oh fuck ow that fucking hurts"  
  
Peter.  
  
Tony couldn't get there fast enough. He was lucky his suits can go so fast, the ride to Queens only look 15 mins. But he could hear Peter drifting in and out of consciousness.  
  
Tony was just two minutes away from Peter and May's apartment when he could hear the door being broken down. Shit. He's going to be too late.  
  
"No, May please, can you jus'... please.. no.." May?  
  
Tony Stark blasted a hole through the wall of Peter Parker's bedroom, and there he lay, unconscious, on the floor. Getting the shit kicked out of him by his aunt. Wrists slit, and an empty container of ibuprofen discarded on the floor nearby.

  
-

  
  
The rest of the night was a blur. Tony tearing May off Peter's lifeless body. Carrying Peter to the nearest hospital. The waiting  
  
God, the waiting.  
  
Pepper got down there as soon as she could, but Tony had already been sitting in the ER waiting room for 30 minutes.  
  
Tony blamed himself, he should have seen it coming. The kid didn't even wear short sleeves in Germany. He was always bruised, he winced when he was touched.  
  
It was Tony's fault this went on so long. It was Tony's fault Peter could die.  
  
"Tony. Don't" Pepper snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts. "You're blaming yourself, I see it in your eyes. This is not your fault Tony, okay?"  
  
And yet, it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So y'all asked for this, even though its lowkey self-indulgent.  
> Anyways, I'm on spring break so hopefully, I'll post again this time next week (I'm thinking maybe I'll try and post weekly on Saturdays barring finals)  
> And more: should i completely ignore IW and have all the rogue avengers come back and live at the compound and make this fic even more self-indulgent bc i stan the peter/bucky friendship OR just have it be like Tony, Pepper, Rhodey and banner  
> But yeah a me update: I'm maybe getting a job so if i do im going to talk to my therapist again about going on meds. He said i should a while back but we couldnt afford it then (I live in Canada so therapy is covered under healthcare but my province doesnt cover meds.) So yeet.  
> Also im going to take grade 12 biology next term (im in grade 10 rn) which is great because i was worried my school wouldnt let me because ive missed a lot of school bc of my menal health but they said i can because i still have a 4.00 which is great!!!  
> (Also if anyone wants to beta read for me let me know.)


	6. Elephant in the room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another big TW. Same general themes as the last chapter. There isn't any straight up suicide or self-harm but it's talking about the aftermath of peter's suicide attempt. SO be careful and please don't read this if you're in a place right now where it could trigger you.

After the incident, Peter was transferred to the compound's medical ward, where he stayed for a week. From what Peter knew, he'd been out for two days before he woke up. That they didn't know if he would.

_"Why didn't you say anything, Pete? I could've helped." His eyes looked broken.  
_

Nobody could help him. He was nothing more than a failure. A freak.

The highlight of his life, his peak, his largest contribution to the world, would be his death.

And he had been so goddamn close.

So fucking close.

He was on suicide watch. No sharp objects in or out, 24/7 video surveilence, in person checks every fifteen minutes.

They monitored everything he did, what he ate, when he ate. And they had the therapist. She wasn't terrible. He just didn't like her.

He didn't talk to her for the first month. He didn't talk to anyone for a month.

He knew it hurt Mr. Stark. Peter knew it, Tony's eyes were perpetually bloodshot.

_"You have 12 new messages: Peter, It's MJ. I'm worried about you. I haven't seen you in three weeks. You've never missed this much school, I'm worried. Please call me. Please be okay. You need to be okay"_

Once he was no longer a medical issue, they moved him to a different room. It wasn't his old one. It was new, and it was cold, and white. Sterile. 

There was, once again, no sharp objects.  His meds were monitored, and the surveilence stayed as too. Peter was an animal, cadged in a zoo. Doctors, psychiatrists and therapists were constantly flowing in and out. 

_"FRIDAY can you please just shut off the cameras for like two minutes? I just want to sleep._

_"No Peter, this protocol is unable to be overwritten"_

Peter just wanted to die. He wanted it all to be over. He wanted that darkness, the so close, yet unattainable darkness. He was just too tired to work out an elaborate way to do it, a way to do it now without getting caught again. So he just pretended he was fine.

He started to talk, he 'ate' the food, and he would talk to the therapist. It all felt pointless. But maybe if he was lucky, in the end he would be dead.

_"How did your aunt make you feel?"_

_"like shit"_

_"Do you want to elaborate?"_

_"no."_

Talking to Tony was the worst. Peter felt like he was disappointing him, failing him. Every time Tony came to see him, he looked more disheveled. Bloodshot eyes, uncut hair. It was all Peters fault. Peter was ruining the lives of everyone around him.

Peter was a burden.

_"Was your aunt the reason why you had a panic attack in the Lab?"_

_"I don't like this subject lets change the conversation"_

Peter felt like he was letting the world down. Like his life had beaten him

_"does Mr. Stark know that I'm..."_

_"transgender? yes, and it doesn't change anything."_

Tony came in every day. Peter didn't always talk to him. Sometimes Tony would just talk and Peter would just stare at the wall. That was it. The depression made him zone out. It made him feel sick to his stomach, lethargic, like his body was weighed down.

_"I want to go out on patrol."_

_"Peter, you haven't eaten or slept in three days."_

Other days, panic attacks wracked his body. 

_"FRIDAY can I please just have a minute without the cameras."_

_"No"_

He wanted out so badly, he wished they would just let him leave. He wished they would just let him go. Let him do it. Free him.

_"You have 18 new messages: Peter it's MJ. I haven't heard from you in... 7 weeks? Neither has Ned. They haven't got any other kid to take up your scholarship position, so I know you're calling in sick, or May is. Ana and Mom seem like they knows something but they can't say anything. I'm really worried. Please call me back."_

Peter just wanted it all to be over with.

_"FRIDAY what is Mr. Stark doing right now?"  
_

_"He is working in Lab 4, would you like to send him a message?"_

_"no"_

Eventually Tony and the therapist started trusting him more, letting him spend some time outside of his room. That was where he met the other Avengers.

_"Hey kid" The man with the long brown hair and a metal arm greeted him. "D'you want some toast?"_

_"no."_

As Peter started to warm up to the others, they would start spending time with him too. _  
_

_"Okay kid, Jurrasic Park or Star Wars? your choice"_

_"I don't care"_

It was around that time that the therapist started getting properly concerned by his eating. She gave him a strict food plan.

Peter didn't follow it. _  
_

_"FRIDAY don't tell anyone about this."_

_"I am under strict guidelines that all suicidal or otherwise harming tendencies are to be reported"_

_"Is drinking water harmful?"_

_"No"  
_

_"exactly. don't tell Mr Stark."  
_

He faked his weigh-ins. He faked his mental stability. He faked everything, and no-one knew.

He had control.

He craved control.

Of life, of death, of his weight, of anything and everything he could. 

When the bandages finally came off, the wounds on his arms were big red blotchy scars. and Peter hated them.

Reminders of his failure. Of how he was too weak.

_"I'll do better next time. Next time I am going to do it right."_

The only thing no-one knew was that he was faking his weigh-ins, that secret was kept for a while. It was Nat that found out. Natasha knew everything. 

Peter hated Natasha.

_They were all sitting  at the dinner table, Peter was between Tony and Bucky. Every other spoonful was spat out into a napkin, or slid into his sleeve, or dropped on the floor and stepped on.  In the hustle and bustle of the dinner table, nobody seemed to notice. But she did.  
_

_Fuck her.  
_

_Why couldn't she just let him fade away as everyone else did?_

_She cornered him after the end of dinner, while Peter was trying to figure out how to smuggle something sharp into his room._ _"I'll walk Peter to his room"  
_

_She pounced in the elevator. "I see you not eating. At dinners. You're going to die at this rate. But I know that's what you want." Peter intentionally avoided eye contact. "I'm not going to let you kill yourself."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so poorly written im so sorry.


End file.
